


Help Me Clear My Mind

by stardust_and_sunlight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Enjolras, Trans Grantaire, but don't worry it's just cute, but y'all know they're gay, i mean it's technically pre-relationship, mentions of transphobia off-screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_and_sunlight/pseuds/stardust_and_sunlight
Summary: Enjolras had just managed to pull himself together slightly, tears drying on his cheeks, when he heard a noise from above, and froze.“Umm. Are you okay?”[Enj has a crap day and R is there]
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Help Me Clear My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this in June 2017, just found it and tidied it up and here we are. Check out the TV show reference!
> 
> Enjolras, by the way, is Black in this fic, as he is in basically all my fics. Society no longer has any need for white Amis!
> 
> Comments and kudos and feedback are always appreciated, esp in this case as I am not trans! Hope you enjoy.

Enjolras nodded to Chetta at the bar, but didn't stay to chat, heading for the stairs to the little attic room they used for the meetings, moving as fast as he could without actually running. There had been a lump in his throat since he'd left his parents, and he just wanted to get to a place where he could let the tears fall.

He was early, and as expected there was no-one in the seats scattered around the shabby room. He leant on the nearest table, taking deep, gulping breaths, and then the tears came without warning. Great heaving, unattractive sobs that he couldn’t hold back anymore. He hated this, he _hated_ how his parents made him feel, hated they still held _any_ power over him.

He'd just managed to pull himself together slightly when he heard a noise from above, and froze.

“Umm. Are you okay?”

He looked up, and there was Grantaire, sitting on one of the rafters, high above. The attic was a high ceilinged room, with arches spanning the width of the space, but he hadn't thought to check _above_ him for people. He'd never seen anyone on the rafters before, and the surprise made him honest.

“Not really,” he said bitterly, scrubbing harshly at his wet face. “I was just at lunch with my parents.”

Grantaire made a sympathetic noise, straddling the beam he was on, legs swinging on either side, bracing himself on his hands. “I take it they're not great?”

Enjolras laughed, not a trace of amusement in it. “It was two hours of constant dead-naming and misgendering and asking me when I'd get over this and come back home. It’s just so draining and exhausting and I just. I just don't know how many more times I can explain it to them.”

Grantaire sighed. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I get it. My mum and sister got my pronouns and name really quickly but my dad point blank refused. I get you.”

Enjolras blinked up at him. “You're trans?” he said, astonished, and then ducked his head, blushing. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't-” he stammered, but Grantaire chuckled.

“Nah don't worry about it, I guess if anything I'm delighted that I pass,” he said. “But yeah, everything was pretty goddamn awful when we lived with my dad, but then my mum finally left him and it all got better after that, her and my sister are really great, so, you know,” he shrugged.

He'd spoken flippantly, but Enjolras got the idea that the story was worse than he'd made it seem. “I'm sorry,” Enjolras said quietly, and Grantaire smiled down at him.

“Don't worry about it,” he said, “it was a long time ago.” And then he _jumped off of the beam,_ twisting in the air and landing lightly on his feet.

Enjolras gaped at him. “What,” he said blankly, heart pounding.

“I used to do gymnastics,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras blinked at him, astonished.

“Do you sit on the rafters a lot?” he asked weakly, sinking into the nearest chair. Grantaire slumped into a chair across the table from Enjolras, and smirked at him.

“Not that much,” he said carelessly, “not since I almost gave Joly a heart attack. But I like it. It’s peaceful, and I didn’t expect anyone here this early.” He looked directly at Enjolras, who flinched despite himself. “Are you alright?” he said, voice serious. “Do you want to talk about it, or about something else?”

“Something else,” Enjolras said immediately, finding himself unable to look away from Grantaire’s clear green eyes.

“Have you seen that new Netflix show, Dear White People?” Grantaire asked, and when Enjolras nodded, startled by the abrupt change of subject, Grantaire beamed. “Good,” he said happily, “I’ve been waiting to hear your scathing criticisms of it since I finished. Go on, I’m sure you’ve prepared numerous points?”

And so Enjolras allowed Grantaire to distract him with a spirited discussion about various TV shows, allowed Grantaire to get him a drink, the alcohol and the conversation settling him in a way he hadn’t expected, and by the time the rest of the Amis had started to trickle in, Enjolras was feeling much better.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, as he stood to make his way to the front of the room, and Grantaire tipped his glass in acknowledgment.

“Any time, Apollo,” he called out, and Enjolras smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/holIyshort) \- come and say hi!


End file.
